


A Chance Meeting

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [271]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 05:10:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13652091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: A friendly neighbor introduces herself to our guys.





	A Chance Meeting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EverythingCanadian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverythingCanadian/gifts).



> Feedback: Is treasured at merryamelie@aol.com (or leave a comment).
> 
> Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
> 
> For  
> My beta team: Emila-Wan and Carol  
> Mali Wane and Laura McEwan for posting to the Master Apprentice ML  
> Travis for posting to the Master Apprentice Archive on AO3   
> Alex for inspiring Arcadia 
> 
> References:  
> [Stranded](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4359485)  
> [The Blue Swordfish](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13484454)
> 
> The title comes from a phrase used by Professor Tolkien in 'The Lord of the Rings'.

"Hello there!"

It was the evening of Friday, February 16th, and Ian and Quinn were strolling hand in hand up the sidewalk a couple of blocks north of Templeton Way. The temperature had already dropped to 18 degrees Fahrenheit, so they were glad they had on their blue and green parkas, instead of the overcoats they'd worn to Luke earlier in the day. In addition, they had changed into their Aran pullovers and jeans, much warmer than the clothes they wore for teaching.

Since the wind chill made it feel like 7 degrees, they also had on striped scarves in the Skyhawks colors of brown and cream, which Prudence had made for them last year. Their Williamsburg boots thudded over the cement pavers, adding a Jedi vibe to their stroll. They were on the way home from the town library, with new books tucked into the 'Alder Run 300' tote bags they'd gotten at the Founders' Day celebration in September.

A middle-aged woman bundled up in a dusty-rose jacket smiled at them after her greeting and paused on the sidewalk while they walked towards her. She had short brown hair with streaks of grey, gentle olive-green eyes, and was somewhat plump.

"Good evening, ma'am," said Quinn politely.

She stood in front of them, apparently hoping to chat, despite the cold weather. "You probably don't recognize me, but I've seen you fellows walking to the grocery store for over a decade now." She impulsively put out her hand to shake with them, even though all of them wore gloves. "I'm Jan Orton. I live on Orchard Lane. It's a pleasure to finally meet both of you."

Shaking her hand, Ian said, "Likewise, ma'am. I'm Ian Prentice."

Quinn shook hands with her in turn and introduced himself, as well. "We live over on Templeton Way."

"Oh, yes. That's a beautiful neighborhood. Mrs. Chang belongs to my bridge club," said Jan.

"She's our next-door neighbor and a good friend, a lovely woman," said Ian.

"My son Robert was only six years old when we first saw you walking on Main Street," Jan said. "And now he's going to attend Luke this fall."

"'Tis a small world," Quinn said, a twinkle in his eye when he saw Jan look him up and down, goggling at his decidedly not small stature. Apparently, he was taller than she had realized when she'd seen them from a distance. "Both of us teach in the English Department at Luke."

"I've always had a hunch that you're professors, for some reason. Maybe it's your Skyhawks sweatshirts or the way you tend to carry books and papers with you." She nodded at their tote bags, which were overflowing with library books.

Ian grinned at her. "Who knows? Robert might end up taking one of our classes someday."

Jan's smile deepened. "That would be lovely. It does my heart good to see such a happy couple through the years. Glad I finally got to tell you that."

Quinn said, "Thank you very much, Jan. 'Twas surely a kindness."

Ian echoed his husband's thank-you, then they exchanged phone numbers before they said their goodbyes, and the men continued walking back to Templeton Way.

"Wow!" Ian said as soon as they were out of earshot. "So cool of her to say all of those wonderful things."

"Quite an unexpected treat for two lucky sods like us," said Quinn. "Her kind words warmed me right down to me toes, laddie." He felt like wiggling them in his boots.

Ian winked. "I was planning to do that the second we got home," he said, brimming with mischief. He snuggled into Quinn's side, giving him a taste of the warmth to come.

Even though the temperature was steadily going down, both of them felt a lot warmer now.

When they got back, Quinn stopped to pick up the mail and stuff it inside his tote bag. Artoo and Sandy raced to the front door as soon as they heard the sound of Ian's key turning in the lock. Dropping their bags on the pie-crust table by the door, the men took off their scarves and parkas and hung them on pegs, then paused to look over the letters quickly before sitting on the carpet to play with the puppies.

Ian cuddled Artoo in his arms. "I have you to thank for a wonderful Valentine's celebration at The Blue Swordfish, ma cutie pie," he said as he petted the Chihuahua's soft fur and gazed at Quinn with shining blue-green eyes. Artoo woofed softly and licked Ian on the chin.

"It's lucky we went on Saturday. Not only did we have classes on Valentine's Day itself, but we also had some snow." Quinn petted Sandy with one hand and Ian with the other.

"And the restaurants must have been just as crowded as over the weekend," said Ian.

Quinn nodded. "I can still taste the crabmeat au gratin."

"Says the 'hobbent' in residence," Ian replied with a wink, using the term he'd coined to describe his herven -- a marvelous mixture of hobbit and Ent, just like Quinn himself.

Quinn groaned on cue. "I ent so sure Professor Tolkien would approve of your terminology, lad."

Ian gave out a merry laugh. "You never know. By all accounts, he had a wonderful sense of humor."

"We'll have to go back to The Blue Swordfish soon. Next month is your parents' 48th anniversary. Might be a good idea to take the whole family there to celebrate." Quinn was still daydreaming about their date and still petting Ian.

Ian all but purred at the feel of Quinn's huge hand gliding over the arm of his pullover. "Sounds like a good idea. I'll run it by Kathy and Monty tomorrow."

Quinn noticed the little crease between his husband's eyebrows. "Penny for your thoughts, lad?"

"You're a bit on the cheap side, aren't you?" Ian laughed. "Jan's words got me to thinking," he said. "One of the letters that just came for me was sent by Kit Stern over at ESPA. He wants me to do a documentary about being a gay gymnastics coach in the NCAA. Y'know, what it's like being out at Luke."

"I know you've done many a post-meet interview with ESPA over the years, and they've always gone well," Quinn said, his eyes thoughtful. He knew that the sports channel was one of Ian's favorites.

Ian nodded. "Yes, I've even done interviews with Kit himself. I was leaning towards saying no to him anyway, because it would be a nationwide broadcast, which is a bit intimidating. But our chat with Jan tonight really brought home the importance of making a good impression on folks. Now I'm not sure what to do."

"How long did he give you to make up your mind?" Quinn asked.

"I have to let him know by March 1st," Ian said. "He and his crew want to get some footage of this season in, as well as the finals of the NCAA Championships near the end of April, if we make it."

Quinn chuckled. "Oh, you'll make it, lad. Luke has an unbroken record of being there since 2005."

"Love your confidence in me," Ian murmured.

Artoo chose that moment to yip, a gentle reminder to both of them that puppy bowls needed to be replenished without further ado. The pups trotted up the hall, then they could hear the clatter of tiny paws on the terra-cotta tiles in the kitchen.

"In the mood for a snack, too?" Quinn pulled Ian up and into his arms. "We still have a wee bit of time before the Olympics start -- the men's free skate is on tonight."

Ian said, "I'd love one, but not right this second."

They shared a deep kiss, and Ian was glad that they hadn't eaten anything yet, so he could savor the taste of pure Quinn.

"Mmmmm. You're warming me up already, laddie mine." Quinn smiled into his husband's eyes, now a beautiful winter blue.

Nestling in each other's arms for a while longer, they finally disentangled. Ian headed up the hall to the kitchen, while Quinn decided to record the skating just in case they were too tired to watch later on.

By the time Quinn got to the kitchen, the puppies were already snuggled in their baskets. As soon as Ian shook the box of kibble, though, little paws poked out over their blankets. Quinn refilled their water bowls, while Ian poured fresh kibble into their dishes. Sure enough, the pups came over to have some.

Then Quinn went to the refrigerator in search of their own snacks. "What's your pleasure? You have a choice between Mom's blueberry cobbler and the last piece of Violet's apple pie."

Ian was familiar with every single one of Quinn's inflections, and he knew the subconscious emphasis on the 'last' piece meant that Quinn wanted the pie for himself. Of course, he would give it to him, but that didn't mean he couldn't play with him a little first. "Hmm? Blueberries versus apples, which will it be?"

Meanwhile, Quinn was looking at him like Artoo did when he was waiting patiently for him to open his doggie bag. It was time for The Negotiator to live up to his nickname.

It goes without saying that Ian couldn't resist his husband. "I'll have the cobbler, thanks."

Quinn closed the refrigerator door and pulled Ian into a bear hug. "Ah, laddie, you're forever spoiling me."

"What's a hubby for?" Ian said teasingly. He reached up for a kiss, then got the mugs, plates, and silverware out for their treats.

Opening the refrigerator once more, Quinn pulled out their pastries and put them in the microwave oven for forty seconds. Before his herven closed the door, Ian took out the skim milk so he could get a start on their macchiatos. While they were burbling away, they stood at the counter, gazing out into the crystalline serenity of the back yard.

Living in the Moment, together.

The beeps of the microwave and their Gaggia espresso maker reminded Ian of R2-D2, the inspiration for their puppy's name. He grinned at their very own Artoo, snug once more in his basket.

Quinn ruffled Ian's copper spikes on his way to get the food from the microwave. Then they sat down at the table and started eating. It didn't take long for Ian to begin poaching swirls of apple streusel from Quinn's plate, although he made up for it by giving him plenty of chunks of brown-sugar cinnamon and blueberries in return. Quinn hummed in satisfaction.

"'Tis always a good day when we make a new acquaintance," Quinn said with even greater satisfaction.

Ian ate a forkful of his cobbler. "Especially out of the blue like this."

"Reminds me of a few years back," said Quinn, "when we met our friends Sharrie and Victor, after she was stranded at the grocery store." He took a sip of his macchiato, which was the perfect temperature by now.

Ian nodded. "They're such a sweet couple. And I enjoy meeting them once a month for cappuccinos at Cream and Sugar."

"Sharrie still takes me aside from time to time and gushes about how you saved her that day," said Quinn.

"It was nothing," Ian said in self-deprecation.

"Not to Sharrie and her husband, it wasn't. You, my love, got them home safely, and that means everything to them."

Ian had a gentle smile on his face. "And knowing that means everything to me." He chuckled. "I'll be sure to spring for Vente Mocchacinos and chocolate-chip cookies for everyone the next time we meet at the coffeehouse."

"I'm looking forward to it already," said Quinn with a wink, then finished his last forkful of apple pie. He stood up to rub Ian's shoulders and smiled when his husband used his stomach as a pillow. "Getting tired, laddie mine?"

Ian yawned in confirmation. "I could fall asleep right now, in spite of the coffee." A week of classes, coaching, and meetings had finally caught up with him.

Quinn's smile was indulgent. The dishes would keep for now; they'd gobbled up every crumb anyway. The puppies were asleep in their baskets, and the house was quiet around him. He gathered Ian in his arms to pull him up, then kept his arm over his shoulders on the way to the bedroom. After helping Ian into his flannel pajamas and tucking him in, he put on his own pajamas and got into bed.

He dreamed of a chance meeting between Gandalf and Faramir in Ithilien.


End file.
